Under My Skin
by Sehanine
Summary: There's a fine line between love and hate.


Written for round 12 of the QLFC

Team: Pride of Portree

Position: Seeker

* * *

 _Weasley was born in a bin, he always lets the Quaffle in…_

The tune repeated endlessly in Ron's mind, despite the fact he could only remember about a third of the lyrics, and those he could remember weren't even consecutive lines. He knew he shouldn't let it get to him, but that was easier said than done.

Draco Malfoy had always had a knack for getting under Ron's skin. His underhanded comments about Ron's lack of wealth and overabundance of siblings never failed to rile him up. In addition, the barbs aimed at Harry and Hermione often irritated Ron even more than those aimed at himself.

Their families hated each other. That was simply a fact of life. Really, even if Draco had been a perfectly pleasant person to be around, Ron still would have had to hate him. Luckily for him, Draco was, and always had been, an absolute git.

"Hey, Weasel, nice job stopping that Quaffle!" Draco taunted from across the Potions classroom. Ron felt his ears go red as his grip tightened on his quill. He hadn't missed a single save in the last game, so Draco's comment shouldn't have bothered him at all. It was completely illogical, and yet, Ron could suddenly no longer concentrate on his work.

"Just ignore him," Harry muttered beside Ron. "He'll get bored after a few weeks and go back to tormenting me instead."

Strangely, the idea that annoying him was just a fleeting diversion for Draco only served to make Ron even more angry. Hermione would say that Ron was enjoying the validation that came from Draco paying more attention to him than to Harry, but that wasn't it. Ron's thought processes were rarely that complicated.

No, Ron simply found that having a rival was somewhat… fun.

Okay, so it was frustrating, annoying, irritating and many other words that basically all meant the same thing, but at the same time it was exhilarating. Trading insults back and forth, glaring at one another over meals and in class, bumping shoulders roughly when passing in the corridor and commiserating about it all with friends at the end of the day… Ron found that it added something a little different to his rather monotonous life at school.

Ron soon found himself growing eager to see Draco. He was looking forward to Potions and Care of Magical Creatures—both classes he hated—but also ones that he shared with Draco. He fell asleep while coming up with creative insults and woke up excited to see the Slytherin's reaction when he managed to work them into a confrontation.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Ron?" Harry asked as they rose from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall to begin their descent to the Potions classroom.

"What d'you mean?" Ron replied.

"Normally you're trying to find any excuse to stay away from the dungeons until we absolutely have to go down there, but lately we've been getting there early. And, you only had one helping at lunch today. There was plenty of time for seconds, and yet we're on our way down to Potions. Early." Harry placed heavy emphasis on the last word.

"So? I'm not that hungry today." Ron was a little distracted, glancing around the corridor to see if Draco had arrived early too. He hadn't been at the Slytherin table at lunch, so Ron was hoping to get some good glares in before class started.

"He's not even here yet," Harry commented, leaning against the wall. Ron jumped a little and stared at his friend.

"Er, who are you talking about?" he asked, attempting to be nonchalant.

"You know full well who I'm talking about, Ron. Honestly, if I didn't know any better I'd swear you had a crush on him." Harry was grinning. It was clear he was joking. And yet, Ron did not laugh.

It was a preposterous suggestion. Firstly, Ron liked girls. He knew that as well as he knew anything. Secondly, Ron hated Draco Malfoy. It was in his genes. Their grandfathers had hated each other, their fathers hated each other and now Ron and Draco hated each other more passionately than any generation that came before them.

"Ha. Yeah. Good one, mate," Ron said. Harry kindly ignored that it had taken Ron far too long to reply.

* * *

Ron began paying more attention to the way he responded to Draco, and he didn't like what he was noticing.

The redness that crept up his neck and coloured his ears was something he usually attributed to anger, but now he noticed that it was happening as soon as Draco's eyes met his, and not in reaction to Draco's insults. The increase in his heart rate he had previously assumed was caused by the rush he got from their arguments, but it now appeared to start as soon as he noticed Draco's presence, regardless of whether or not they interacted. And perhaps most worryingly of all, he no longer thought about potential insults at night. He simply thought of Draco.

This wasn't acceptable.

* * *

"You know, I'm pretty sure he's not as straight as he tries to appear," Hermione said, causing Ron to jump about three feet out of his chair. He hadn't even noticed her coming into the library.

"And why would I care about that?"

"Ron, I've seen the way you look at him. It's okay."

"What's okay?" Ron asked, his palms sweaty. He knew exactly what Hermione was talking about, but he couldn't admit it.

"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you," Hermione said, smiling. "You fancy Malfoy. And from the way he's been acting lately, I'd say the feeling's mutual." That got his attention.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, trying to sound relatively disinterested, but suspecting he'd failed.

"Well, he spent all that time making up a song just to get your attention," Hermione began. "He goes out of his way to track you down to trade insults with you. He makes sure he's sitting facing us at meals and his eyes are always on you."

Ron thought for a moment, fighting to keep the smile off his face. He liked the idea of Draco liking him far more than he ever wanted to. Unfortunately, he knew he could never admit that. Not even to Hermione.

"Well then, sucks to be him, doesn't it?"

Ron shoved his books haphazardly into his bag, throwing it over his shoulder and striding away. He would have to learn to control his feelings better in future.


End file.
